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"Frozen Again: 'Love Never Ends"
Act VIII
Chapter 10
"Bring Back a Love Song to Me"
Behind the mysterious aura of dim candlelight just beyond the ominous, large double doors, the Masquerade Ball Birthday Party of the kingdom of Norway was indeed in full swing.
The classic Arendelle Ballroom had been transformed into an exquisite seventeenth century yesteryear, with all the decor and trimmings Queen Iduna and Princess Anna could have arranged to give Elsa the party of her life.
The ballroom had tastefully become a wondrous, magical center of ambiguous dancing couples in full Masquerade dress. There was much lively bouncing and hopping in rhythmic time in dances full of playful zest such as the Ländler, Czardas and Spanner country folk dances; the renowned Polka and Galop, as well as a refined Strauss waltz or two sprinkled in a varied mix with the celebrated Quadrille and Scottish reels and Strathspeys.
As for the music, early classical composers such as Bach, Beethoven and Brahms were joined by a few more modern-day waltzes tossed in for the more adventurous dancers. The entire ballroom was ensconced in this mystery where no one uttered a single word, only expressive gestures used to signal their desire to dance with a selected partner.
But for Prince Hans who had deftly snuck in through the window side entrance, his breath was utterly stolen away. And not just by the music, nor impressive decor, but by the sight of a young woman on the far side of the large ballroom being escorted by King Agnarr to her throne amidst their citizens' delighted applause.
Awe-inspiring in full view in the lighted room, the young ruler of Arendelle was radiant in purples, lilacs and violets where she held court above the dance floor upon her royal throne's dais.
His gorgeous Elsa was a stunning vision of beauty seated with her elegant gloved hands primly folded like the true Queen she was upon a special raised royal throne just erected in the birthday girl's honor this evening at the head of the ballroom dais.
There, the shy young woman could look over the crowd as they all gaze up in hope for her silent nod of approval, while the spectators above were able to watch it all from the gallery audience.
In hushed, unspoken invites of tapped shoulders and hand gestures which this type of enigmatic Masquerade Ball required, the engaging party guests had been enjoying themselves surrounded in the silent mystery of exhilarating disguise.
The curiosity to discover the identity of fellow costumers at this Masquerade Ball's unmasking, set to be at the stroke of 11:03 PM when the winter solstice officially began, added one more element of intrigue to the building excitement of the evening.
From young folks in yeoman sailor uniforms of varied nations, middle-aged men sporting Turkish sultanas and Scottish kilts; girls in Little Bo Peep costumes; ladies in Grecian gowns and elderly women in Egyptian headdress, the entire kingdom had turned out for this exciting 'event of the century.'
A mesmerized Hans was about to cut through the sea of masked guests to approach the throne and invite his tense looking fiancée to her first dance when his young blood boils to see another man beat him to it.
The tall masquerader, wearing a floorlength long black robe of a 12th-century judge, had on a frightening half mask of a plague doctor from the Dark Ages. 'Judge Frollo' gravely approaches the Queen's throne and with a respectful vow silently petitions the monarch for her to grant him her first dance of the evening.
The masked man shares a nod with King Agnarr, who was standing not too far away in his St. Olaf, founder of Norway's kingdom, costume behind Elsa's throne. Though it pained the good father to see what he had mistakenly wrought disturb his older child, the Ice Queen puts on a brave face.
Elsa's tense hand squeezes the puffin plush toy in her dress pocket folds where a lady was to keep her gloves and dance card during the ball. She shoots Anna a glance, but the younger queen, in her scandalous Robin Hood guise on the dance floor, could not think of a quick way to blatantly override her father nor the civility of the ball.
So the Sleeping Beauty Princess dutifully, yet reluctantly gives her hand to the controlling man in the dark Il Dottare costume. He throws a smirk triumphantly back at the even taller, tan-skinned, fittingly costumed in the creamy ivory Arabian Ali Ababwa, Prince of Thieves' poofy pants, purple cape and big turban outfit of legend. He too had been beat by the pushy dark Judge of Monacan descent though the smooth Khaldunian had been patiently standing on the dais, courteously giving the Queen a moment before he swooped in.
Glaring from beneath his jewel encrusted gold mask, Prince Khalid frowns and folds his arms, determined to employ patience to best his main rival later on.
The dark Judge leads the platinum haired, purple Princess to the dance floor, placing a bold hand around her thin waist. Elsa stiffens, doing her best not to lose control of her ice magic with the silent psalmist's prayer for inner strength on her lips as her debut at the Masquerade Ball begins.
'But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. ' Psalm 3:3
Going into planned evasive action, masked bandit Anna raises her feathered green hat up in the air. Robin Hood waves her hat from where she was in the midst of the dance floor swaying to the boring Fugue in D minor of Bach's with a not very convincing Prince James as Hunchback of Notre Dame.
The awkward costume wearing young man – who obviously thought the funny outfit would be an amusing conversation piece to endear him to Elsa in comparison to the taller, more impressive suitor set - had Anna nearly falling asleep.
Preferring a quick step, the fast paced girl had been trudging around with this costume clown during the slow-moving music that was to go on for another five minutes at least.
Her signal goes to Kristoff who scans the crowd from his vantage point overlooking all at the ballroom's stairwell that led up to the gallery in the rear. The keen senses Wind Whisperer prompts Princess Amber who was closest to that part of the ballroom where she was dancing quite elegantly in her silvery palest blue-grey organza and satin panniered 'Cinderella' inspired ballgown with Prince Desmond as Merlin.
Behind her elegant black mask on a stick, this lovely Cinderella who adored Masquerades and ballroom dancing, twirls her poor dizzy wizard with a long white beard to follow her lead. She spins her obedient Merlin costumed dance partner so fiercely that Amber knocks off the timid young wizard's cerulean blue hat from the now revealed Desmond's brown haired head right in the path of Elsa and her dance partner.
A pursed lipped Prince Charles Honore of Monaco, beneath his dour, big tufted monastic saturno headwear and black robe, was forced to pause unhappily in his dance with the jittery Queen. He was just about to get cozy with Queen Elsa during the slow-moving melody but was forced to now switch partners.
Princess Valentina, in her butterfly-winged gold and soft green Fairy Queen frills, orchestrates the music to abruptly finish just then to change into a more speedy toccata. Swift as a spot of fairy dust, the pushy Shakespearean fairy Queen Titania snatches Prince Khalid, rearing to accost a freed Elsa in his billowy Arabian Prince Ali outfit right off the dais.
And Valentina – who did everything a little bit better than anyone else – was not taking 'no' for an answer from the tall, dark Khaldunian. Much to Peter Pan's still free and liberated relief as Alonso cowers behind the balloons with a sigh.
Grateful Queen Elsa takes this comforting opportunity to make a quick bow and curtsy to complete the dance with her first partner as she hastily retreats back to her throne.
Sitting back, the Ice Queen was quite pleased with herself for not going all 'ice crazy' and implode on the presumptive, unknown young man. Elsa holds her head high for comporting herself quite well on the dance floor. She looks up to her Papa for approval but finds he had already left the dais, so she directs her gaze to Anna instead.
Elsa's grateful smile of victory to her sister was short-lived though as another potential male masquerader approaches her throne.
As the swifter step music picks up the pace of the ballroom where many other couples had joined in, another would-be suitor, this one wearing a loose fitting, long white robe in a cross between his philosopher hero Aristotle and the Greek mythological, mercurial winged helmet messenger Hermes, currently bows before the Queen of Norway.
Here we go again…
Elsa was determined to be brave as she steels herself with the squeezed secret stress ball of Sir Jorgen Bjorgen. Her azure blue eyes behind her bejeweled white mask had been scouring the room for a tall svelte redhead, but now must instead focus on this shorter, stouter, dark-haired man in a one slung shoulder toga and tinted round eye shade mask of the Olympian myth legend's get up.
"Oh, ugh - ergh –" Elsa almost breaks the silent rule for unspoken anonymity when the inelegant man, in his winged sandaled feet, steps on her long skirt in the subdued lighting. The Prince inadvertently causes the Queen to plunk back down to her seat from his blunder, though his inviting hand extended for a dance was prompting otherwise.
TAP. TAP.
But the Queen is once again spared by her heroic Robin Hood, who taps Greek Prince Otho's shoulder and mime gestures a funny dance with arm movements pointing to her scribbled dance card.
"Argh." Well-rounded in all academia, sans dancing, the studious, plump Prince grunts and shrugs to Elsa as he gives up rather easily to an insistent Anna and joins her instead for the presceduled, calculated dance. He couldn't be more stiff and plodding at the art of the dance to the upbeat 2/4 time polka than his idol of legendary logic, the ancient mathematician in most probability himself was a shoddy hoofer.
Grateful for her sister's influence, Elsa was just leaning down to straighten her trampled on skirt and hopefully fix the wrinkles with a little assist of her tingling ice magic fingers when a dashing figure emerges from the sidelines to suddenly appear at her feet.
Ever inch of me is trembling, but not from the cold…
Music softly begins to play in her soul as if once upon a dream when a svelte young man wearing the gorgeous knightly garb of a mid-century Welsh Prince had a very familiar air about him. Elsa watches in awe as he gallantly kneels on his silver leg armored greaves, poleyn and cuisse before the throne of the Queen to smooth her tousled skirt for her.
Something is familiar, like a dream I can reach but not quite hold.
And even more memorable were the vibrant green eyes behind that ebony mask which accented the debonair ebony and silver armor uniform of his Black Knight Prince Philip costume.
I can sense you there, and it feels like I am home.
With a soft touch to her astonished cheek, the unnamed, dashing Prince deftly moves his hands to her shoulders, sliding down them in a sultry, possessive caress until he reaches and lifts Elsa's icy hands from her lap. This man of mystery revels in the invigorating chill which thrilled his five senses once again. He smiles softly, gently, as the intensity and desire of his eyes draw her to him.
You have secrets too, but you don't have to hide!
Without uttering a single word that may shatter this dream, Elsa, completely mesmerized and possessed by him too, never once falters in her steady returning gaze, lips half parted in breathless anticipation. Easily bringing her to her dainty feet, the dancing expert sweeps the demure and now fully willing Queen of Arendelle down to the dance floor in one fluid movement to join the refined quadrille already in progress.
Show yourself! I'm dying to meet you!
This polished, very adept at the art of dance partner takes an instantly enraptured Elsa's breath away as she feels no need for fear in this refined knight's arms. All the while, the slender and graceful, light on his armored feet Prince dances the entranced young woman intimately close to his chest in the quick paced Russian Mazurka's intricate steps.
I've never felt so certain! All my life I've been torn. Could this be the reason I was born?
From promenades to genuflexions, tiroirs to redowa, ensconced in the thrilling dance she never thought she could enjoy so, Elsa of Arendelle never felt so alive or exhilarated in all her life as she did within this aura of mystery. As music plays in her soul, the Ice Queen's elegant skirts flow around at her partner's proficient lead, until the rapturous Ice Queen was positive this man behind the mask was her dashing Prince Hans.
Show yourself! It's your turn! You are the one I've been searching for all of my life!
The 14th century famed Black Knight seemed to feed off her thrills as he spins and lifts and pulls and whirls her around the dance floor like it was second nature, the two of them moving entirely as one.
This must be my Hans! No one else could ever make me respond like this—so completely, so fully and so trusting—as I feel only in his arms…
Show yourself! I'm no longer trembling! Here I am, we both come so far! You are the answer I've waited for all of my life!
The song of her heart's discovery nonce again playing loud in her ears, Elsa felt so safe and so happy in his arms as they waltzed across the floor, she couldn't help but lay her head to his chest, listening to his pounding heart, with a delirious smile on her entranced face.
Come to me now, open your door.
Don't make me wait one moment more!
Though all eyes were on the Sleeping Beauty and her Prince Charming at center stage, Prince Ferdinand, in his duplicate Black Knight outfit, was ready.
The Prince of Orleans stood in the palace vestibule waiting in the wings for the crucial moment of theatre to allow Hans to give the slip as planned. But his old friend King Agnarr had, by chance or by Providence, already been distracted otherwise.
The King had been perplexed to find his wife, attired in most of her tenth century Queen Astrid garb, the match of his holy King Olaf, rhythmically moving in time around the room with a tall bullfighter with salt-and-pepper hair. Agnarr did not need take off the mask of the Matador's disguise to know that undoubtedly his Iduna was whispering sweet nothings in the ear of still dapper don Chancellor Esteban.
Blindly seeing red, the jealous King was determined to get to the bottom of what they were so intimately discussing.
Making his way in his heavy chain mail skirt and long red cape with blurred vision through the festively costumed crowd dancing the dramatic Mazurka dance that was just finishing, King Agnarr was about to give that imposing (in both senses of the word) Avaloran a piece of his disturbed mind.
But that's when he pauses to blink several times as he watches Iduna bow her final dance close to Esteban. Then the Queen waves to the orchestra leader in the balcony above with some signal of a bright red handkerchief produced from inside her long veiled cream and teal gown of the early Medieval Period.
Just as an irked Agnarr arrives, his smiling enigmatically Queen trots away to disappear behind the darkened pillars, giving her quizzical husband and royal ruler only a small smile and nodded glance as she excitedly rushes by.
Soon, the exotic Spanish flair music of the centuries-old flamenco ensues throughout the ballroom. As they all were just calming down from the thrilling Mazurka just played, everyone is stunned by the unexpected entrance of a multi-fabric layered, red begowned, decidedly mature lady, whose flared, free-flowing red folds of dress spin out to the ballroom center.
The tall, thin, masked woman's normally dull hair was flaxen and shiny beneath a shimmering silk veil called a 'mantilla'. This Carmen's curled hair was held up by a showy tortoiseshell peineta comb and red rose in her blonde tresses, she moves on to the dance floor with proud carriage. The shawl draped over her head and shoulders gave this tense woman a sense of mystery that no one recognized.
No one, save her dance partner.
Esteban's bullfighter dramatically whirls onto the scene from the opposite direction and immediately seizes his red lady in a fast-paced Flamenco.
The Matador, donning a long golden coat with indigo satin sleeves, sports his inverted bell-shaped montera bullfighter's hat which befitted the ceremonial outfit of the traditional Matador. It was called a traje de luces – the 'suit of life' – complete with a red cape 'meleta' to entice his spicy dance partner to join him in the 'Torero's ring'.
The stylish Chancellor in his fancy rope decorated golden jacket and the flashy red silk Spanish maiden had captured the attention of all, as the classy older pair step out of their comfort zone.
The years slip away as Esteban Flores draws Johanne Roservalen into the expressive dance form with precise footwork, intricate hand movements and rhythmic stomping feet that required an emotional intensity never before imagined by the reserved and quiet ladies' maid who was well past her prime.
Except maybe at that idyllic time over a quarter-century ago when a young Johanne had tasted what it was like to live and fall in love, following the dashing lead of the same romantic fine figure of a man as she felt young again now.
"Whew-whew! Don't we wish we could make those moves, eh, Yelana?" Speaking lowly to the Northuldran leader seated at his side in the safety of the audience in the balcony now, a chuckling, bad back joints complaining Mattias lets out a long, impressed whistle.
"Who says I can't? Speak for yourself, old man." The still saucy older woman levels the dare at her companion amicably as the Spanish attired dance couple cavort around the ballroom like a couple of teens.
In the next second of a flash, the native Chief disappears down the steps moccasin feet to the ballroom below.
The General, though muscle–aching after a quick spin around the dance floor with both Yelana and his own energetically passing out snack cakes wife at the refreshment table, truly did feel the magic going on tonight.
Almost like another enchantment…
"Hey! Wait up! I'm not sitting out on this one! Tell Halima to put away the cookies and get ready to do the Genie jig!" Destin Mattias was proving he had more life in him than he gave himself credit for.
Not to mention following his own advice earlier to his dear friend Agnarr 'to live in the here and now to give the future its chance and keep her heartlight burning strong'.
Put the confectioner's sugar away, sweetie. I'm on my way to do just that tonight, Halima-honey.
"Is that –?" It was permissible for the short-sighted King to break the silence rule as he wanders the sidelines in a daze, watching the red and golden, indigo montage of silk and satin amid the fast footwork flash by. The shocking sight of his faithful old nanny Johanne in this Spanish style red risqué clothing of Carmen from the self-named opera was something Agnarr never could envision her in. Nor this cavorting around the Arendelle dance floor like a…a…a—
"Chancellor Esteban and our Johanne. The Duke has asked Johanne to return with him to Avalor, as his bride." Queen Iduna – with a bit of matchmaking pride – quietly informs her husband in answer to his dangled, scandalized question as Agnarr instinctively drew near to his petite wife, though his eyes were glued to the rhythmically coordinated dancing couple.
"What!? But they are so, so –" Though in shock, the mannered King was having a hard time saying the word 'old', however every fiber in him was screaming it. Besides, he knew how this news would hit Kai – his stuffy best friend and tutor, also Johanne's big brother– like a ton of Spanish bricks.
"—so in love where age has no limit. Just look at how those two are meant for one another just as much today as they were all those years ago, Agnarr, when both foolishly allowed convention, prejudice and duty to stand in the way of true love. Do I know anyone who falls in that same category as the opposition again right now?" The indigo-eyed Queen smugly murmurs in the face of her astounded King from beneath her veil she pointedly reclaims from his astonished hand. Both royals, of two different mindsets, had been watching the older dancing pair's surprisingly perfect synchronization and cohesive movements like they were in their prime again within one another's loving embrace.
"Iduna, I –" Agnarr sputters, recalling that it was perhaps his rash young prejudice against the debonair Chancellor back then that had a hand in affecting the faithful ladies' maid, who adored her young King, to abandon her overseas romance, and live many years broken hearted. She would hide away in unrequited love behind his Castle's Gates, resigned to be lonely for a lifetime.
"Do you want Elsa to suffer that same sad fate? Johanne is lucky to have this second chance, even later in life. But how many years of loneliness did she have to suffer because of prejudice and fear, when Love should be the one power that could cast it all aside? Just as the Lord Above designed it to be." The Queen Mother murmurs to her husband as the flamenco dance comes to a dramatic end with the Matador and his female counterpart out of breath laughing together and full of love in one another's arms, both now ready to embrace this long-awaited happiness.
The other couples around the flamboyant pair had actually stopped trying to keep up with Esteban and Johanne on the dance floor, and all applaud the more senior dancing team.
They had the courage at last to cross the boundary divide between young and old, royal and peasant, race and nationality to be together with the promise of simply man and woman, under the sight of God.
"You know I want the best for our daughter, Iduna." Is all a reproached Agnarr could respond as his distracted gaze moves from the Chancellor embracing faithful servant Johanne to Iduna then back to the throne where his daughter was no longer seated primly.
Elsa? Where have you disappeared to, my darling girl? Perhaps Yelana and Mattias are right, and I've been the fool. I must speak to you and clear up this matter of your future that you have chosen with Prince Hans Westergaard once and for all…
Realizing he never looked back in the direction to see who Elsa was dancing with, Agnarr's straining weak eyes now scan all the costumed young couples on the ballroom floor. The orchestra's string quartet reverts to the more formal dance form of the slow and proper Minuet that would be better suited for his reserved, shy child to dance to.
That's when the King spies Elsa at the far end of the room, seeming to enjoy the dance for once in her life with some unknown knight in a red cape. Flashes of silver armor and purple satin spin by her dimmed vision father as King Agnarr slowly moves closer to that section of the ballroom.
Could it be?! You have opened up and are giving one of the princes I invited a chance of your own choosing, my girl?
Pleasantly surprised, King Agnarr smiles to see the birthday girl looking so happy and carefree as she is quite fluidly twirled about the dance floor by this obviously well-versed gentleman Prince.
His mind wandering as he makes his way closer, King Agnarr reminisces on being the only one able to teach the mandatory art of dance to Elsa. His introverted daughter was reticent to touch or be touched by anyone during her tender teenaged years. Back then, she refused to practice with even the most discreet, highly recommended royal dance instructors which Minister Kai had hired specially from the continent for the job.
So that left only one man up to the task in Arendelle.
"What if I freeze you, Papa? What if I can't stop the ice from flowing through my fingertips to yours, even if we both wear gloves? No one can teach me! No one will ever want to dance with me!" Young Elsa had panicked when the King had insisted on the vital regal lesson that every royal young woman or young man must learn and learn well if they ever were to mix in noble society.
"Please don't be anxious, Elsa. Just calm down. I assure you I will be fine. You cannot freeze me. See, you have your gloves on. I have my gloves on. Just don't feel upset and calm down, everything will be fine. The dance is the perfect forum for you to make new acquaintances, while maintaining your detached dignity. As Queen someday, everyone will want to dance with you, my girl. And you will be able to do it because you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can trust your Papa on that, my beautiful Snow Angel. Just follow my lead." The ginger King had tried to reassure his insecure child during her difficult days of growing up different.
Now, twenty/twenty hindsight in retrospect, Agnarr saw he probably should have told his uneasy Elsa that he had no fear of her ice because it ran through his veins, too, and he had mastered its control.
But at that time, the Ice King thought it wise to allow his timid, nervous girl to think that she could handle dancing with any man, and not just her father, simply because he too possessed similar cryokinetic magic.
Just look at her now. All grown up and in control of her ice magic.
It was bittersweet to see his little girl grow up, but Agnarr was proud to survey, albeit through his frosty vision, his once recalcitrant and shy child so vibrantly dancing. And in a close embrace waltz position to be the belle of the ball with that apparently proficient royal young man.
So smooth, so perfectly in rhythm and cadence together… It's almost as if you have waltzed with this fellow before, Elsa…
Who could this dashing young man be? Which of the princes that Kai and I selected has such a commanding distinguished form and resolute elegant lines? Or is it someone your mother invited here inadvertently? I just hope this one could be everything you deserve, my Snow Angel, though it will be difficult for anyone to compete with my Vise Admiral…
"So, Agnarr! Who is that tall, sleek Prince dancing with your Elsa? I expressively do not believe I saw someone of his slender build or winsome frame, not to mention such outlandishly striking hair coloring at breakfast this morning. Believe me, I'm good at this. Let me see, he appears to be someone of Scottish – no, rather Danish descent. More to your taste, Iduna, finally getting into the Dansk bloodline you were always destined for. Ooh, we have a dark horse, perhaps someone to steal the naïve girl's heart out from under all of those other insanely eligible suitors you invited, Agnarr?! Such romance and intrigue in Arendelle! A competition to be sure this season! What of that poor sailorboy fiancé you've banished away that I've heard rumors of? Poor beleaguered creature you're plotting against." Uncle Waldemar lived up to his reputation as a shameless gossip of all things royal. The never married, obese man waddles up from the sidelines near the refreshment table to wrap a thick arm around his cousins' shoulders.
"Waldemar. I am glad to see you enjoying yourself at our kingdom's festivities." As politely as possible, a confused Agnarr was first to recover from the fat man's death squeeze around his and Iduna's necks as he pushes away their Prussian in-law's younger brother with a physical cold shoulder.
Danish…? Striking hair coloring…?
"The food is not bad. Gerda and Johanne have certainly worked their culinary magic. Such a shame to hear you'll be losing your indispensable ladies' maid to that Avaloran Duke's whims. Between you and me and the hallowed walls, whatever circle I travel in says that Chancellor has always been rumored to be a charmer with the ladies, as you well know yourself, Iduna. Hmph. It looks like more than a few of those types have been invited here, Agnarr. Is there any reason for that?" Wearing the toga of Roman senator, their older cousin troublemaker Waldemar makes insinuations aplenty as he admits to eavesdropping on the King and Queen's previous conversation from where the large set man had been skulking around the ballroom.
"Excuse me, cousin." The partially blind King rudely leaves their unpleasantly corpulent cousin mid-sentence with a warning-eye Queen Iduna. Agnarr, again made suspicious by the uncouth Prussian's claims, wished to examine more closely the well purported young Prince expertly dancing with his obviously smitten Elsa.
As Agnarr deftly moves in the crowd to the other side of the ballroom where the encore Sleeping Beauty couple were currently enjoying a lively Scottish Reel, he watches a flushed Princess Aurora on her Knight's arm be joined by other dancing pairs. Aclumsy Quasimodo and a mysterious tall and regal, Italian Commedie dell Arte maid, Columbine flow by in succession of dancing braces. A timid Merlin with snobbish Cinderella, a showy butterfly winged Fairy Queen with an uneasy Peter Pan and a flighty Robin Hood with Hercules complete the set, as they all join in the formation Scottish Reel.
In a flurry of Celtic dance medley confusion, the King arrives just in time to see Elsa exchange an alluring curtsy after ending the Scottish Reel's pastoral air back with her original partner, the slim and svelte, silver pauldron vest armored knight wearing a red satin cape.
Upon closer inspection though, Agnarr could distinguish that the anonymous Black Knight Prince had darker hair than he originally thought, and it was not at all 'strikingly Danish red' as Waldemar had pointed out. It was more of a bluish-black, and the knight possessed somewhat of a youthful air and more gangly appearance than Agnarr believed he witnessed from the distance.
What the engrossed Norwegian monarch did not see was that the original Black Knight Prince Philip, in all the reel's spry steps and vis-à-vis spins and swirls, had been cleverly snatched away.
Hans was almost imperceptibly replaced by an imposter waiting in identical dress in the wings, behind the darkened columns, just in the offing for a smooth exchange ruse to fool the King.
Giving this awkwardly slight and gangly, unknown 'Prince Philip' a nod, concerned Papa takes this opportunity to escort the winded young Queen back to her throne to sit out the next dance of a jaunty double time polka group dance that the Arendellian commoners – and even Anna and Sofia, too - knew how to enjoy in clapping merriment.
"See, Elsa, I told you, a royal ball would be the perfect way for you to make new acquaintances, which could be invaluable to last you a lifetime." Whispering King Agnarr may have been unable to ascertain which visiting Prince this masked gallant knight was, but whoever he may be, his daughter appeared to have been having a grand time with him.
The anxious father - realizing he was wrong before to imagine Elsa different than any other young woman - only wished now for his shy daughter to have this chance to find a true bond with a gentleman who would always stand beside her all the days of her life.
But after spending this afternoon with these purportedly eligible, enviable and agreeable young men, how can't I admit to prefer Prince Hans of the Southern Isles myself? He, at least, reminds me of someone in his youthful days. But that's what you've been trying to tell me all along, haven't you, my love?
Of all the lot of suitors, young Westergaard was actually the most ideal when it came to brains, class, and depth of emotion as well, from all the King had seen in the past. Just as Agnarr pledged to care for his own rare, native wildflower of Iduna forever, through good times and sorrowful ones, and even those days she chose to disregard him.
Like today.
"Yes, you were right, Papa." Elsa giggles between deep breaths at the exhilarating scenario, certain when the dance had begun that she had been definitely partnered with her Prince Hans.
Though at the end of the reel…
What are you up to, my handsome, clever Prince?
The breathless Queen glances quizzically at the lanky young man wearing the Black Knight's costume who had nervously gauche bowed at the end of the dance to her before he was whisked away into another swift redowa by a mermaid tailed, red wigged female.
The pair disappears into a swirl of Egyptian sheiks, circus clowns and panniered ball dress wearing maidens until neither Elsa nor her Papa could keep track of them anymore.
The persistent older man, determined to discover his identity, excuses himself to follow that particular young Knight's path.
Obscured behind his efficient mermaid partner's tail, the dizzied lad clumsily soon stumbles behind the columns, essentially giving King Agnarr the slip.
The next Chopin polonaise of the 18th century French courts was a lively one, where a tall man wearing the blue and gold outfit of an early eighteenth century French gentlemen with a tan-gold, hairy animal tail and fur trimmed full mask of an enthusiastically acting bestial Beast that young Prince Vittorio had chosen approaches Elsa's throne.
At the same time, from the opposite direction, a decidedly quieter, withdrawn Merlin had been gathering up the courage to petition a dance from the birthday girl.
Prince Desmond practically had to be pushed in her direction by his best friend portraying the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Prince James. But boldness never came easy for the shy Prince of Burgundy.
The aggressive Beast merely had to give a threatening growl to scare and knock the off-balance blue hat from the insecure lad's quivering head. The magician trembles from a list of phobias longer than his white beard, and Desmond withdraws immediately to the sidelines where a pursed lip Cinderella Princess Amber was tapping her glass slipper.
Amber didn't have to wait for unmasking hour to detect who the small, reserved young man cowering in the corner like a wallflower she wouldn't allow him to be was.
Like his own mother, this Princess of Enchancia was displeased at his lack of gumption resulting in the less stouthearted Prince Desmond's failure to prevail over the brash lout of that impatient fellow prince.
Oh, come here, Desmond. You are so helpless without me!
As the shy Prince had conceded, a reluctant Elsa had no choice but to accept Prince Vittorio's Beastly silent invite over the smaller, less demanding chap, even if his ferocious visage gave her a childish nightmare fright.
The more assertive Beast in the person of brash and pushy Prince Vittorio of Sardonia clumsily claims his victory over Prince Desmond by seizing Elsa's hand in his big, oversized paw in his enthusiasm. Snagged in his claws, one of her opera length purple gloves slips off as she instinctively draws her shocked hand's cool ice tinkles back, leaving a trail across her throne and the red carpeted floor that was now snowy white.
"Tale as old as time. Song as old as rhyme, Beauty and the Beast!" A quick thinking Princess Sofia bends the Masquerade silence rule with magical lyrics of the French legend that became a fairytale as old as time as if it was part of her masquerade costume, technically speaking.
Covering for Queen Elsa, Sofia in her lovely yellow 'Beauty' Belle ball gown, modeled after one of her favorite fairytale heroines, spins around the dance floor to stand before the throne elegantly. Her beautiful golden rosettes full of glitter on the skirt of her dress unfold with her boisterous movements to cover all the ice particles with more sparkles as generous Sofia claims the mesmerized Beast's pawed hand.
The Galop was an energetic dance, where a tall, towering man on stilted feet and the long tan tail of an 'animal' with furry feet was not going to be a very graceful partner, but the cocoa brown, half bun haired girl invites him nonetheless.
Princess Sofia had learned the value of patience and understanding long ago as she gives Vittorio her sweetest, engaging smile, reaching her own properly gloved golden yellow hand out to grasp his bestial pawed one and steady his near tripping.
The Prince of Sardonia reacts positively, astonished by this lovely vision of a Royal Princess seeking his attention for once, instead of him pushing into the other way around. Elsa's discarded glove slips to the steps between from where it had been hooked on the Beast's clawed hand as enchanting Princess Sofia of Enchancia pulls the angry young man towards the dance floor, both smiling.
And that split second of irresolution on Elsa's now unoccupied dance card behalf was all another romantic young man needed.
The red-headed Black Knight deftly swoops in out of nowhere, scoops up the Queen of Arendelle's discarded glove and quite gentlemanly kneels on the step of the dais to replace it upon her astonished, yet extended appendage.
'Thank you.' Elsa wordlessly mouths, blissful to find herself gazing deep into the green eyes of her true knight in shining armor as he slides his deft armored fingers all the way up her cool, slender arm. Cutting quite a debonair figure in his dark glossy mask, this true Black Knight once again sweeps the dumbstruck monarch onto the ballroom dance floor after a mere confident gesture of holding his hand out to her, which she instantly and joyously accepts.
The quick paced Scottish reel transforms as if by magic into a more romantic waltz at Anna's mental signal to Kristoff where the Herculean man was keeping his vigil all night nearby the orchestra pit behind the half drawn chamber curtain in the dark.
As all other cares fade away, Elsa felt like she and her handsome Prince were waltzing high in the clouds, the only ones in the ballroom as the other couples start to fade as if in a dream. She revels in his touch, pressed to the strong silent chest of her armored knight in the close, intimate proximity of a 'scandalous' waltz, which many in genteel society were still not ready to accept.
Hans, you're really here! You've come home for my birthday, just as you promised! Please, Lord, let this be real and not just a dream!
It wasn't only the mandatory quiet that the Masquerade demanded, but the feeling of a fragile dreamlike ice castle bubble that skittish Elsa did not wish to wake up from and shatter by speaking.
Black Knight Prince Phillip touches his willowy Princess Aurora's soft cheek tenderly sentimental as he seemed to sense her elated mood shift to insatiable curiosity. So the accomplished dancer seamlessly leads his lady fair to an empty darkened corner of the candlelit ballroom.
Shivering with goosebumps of curiosity, with no fear, Elsa basks in how her handsome Prince wished to calm her disquiet with a gentle caress to her cheek, which she leans into, close eyed, wanting to engrave this moment with him in her memory. The titian haired, tall slender man maneuvers his partner to behind one of the side column areas and begins to lift the corner of his dashing black Venetian mask which mirrored Elsa's decorated pearlescent one…
That's just when Harlequin abruptly peeks his head into the hushed draped column area.
"Pardon my gauche intrusion into your intimate rendezvous, mes ami, but our mutual friend is on the prowl for you, Hans. So I would advise to keep your enjoyable assignation for these few private moments between yourself and la belle l'amour de votre vie (the beautiful love of your life) vite (quick), while the boys and I run interference outside. Please listen to my signal for your anonymous escape, you lunatic in love." Prince Ferdinand smugly smirks as he phrases the teasing prescription of secrecy to his comrade after the cunning Frenchman had spied Hans and his ladylove ducking behind the concealed pillar in the midst of the Schubert waltz.
With a comical salute to Elsa, the smirking trickster clown vanishes again into thin air outside the smoky, candle-filled curtained area.
"Elsa, my love, we don't have much time. Please hear me out. I desperately need your advice and counsel, for I am of two minds as to what course to take, now that I am here in Arendelle." Clutching her tightly in a desperate embrace, Hans breaks his silence in urgent breathy whispers across Elsa's neck and shoulders' bare skin that titillated the young Queen no end.
"It pains me that our reunion has been so ensconced in all this secrecy – but you and I both are aware of the time restriction the Admiral has unwaveringly placed upon our engagement." Dutiful Prince Hans begins to explain in the heady darkness of the curtain obscured nook between the columns.
"Ten months, nine days, seven hours to go." Elsa interjects her own heart's internal clock as she counts down breathless verglas puffs against his deliciously sideburned cheek. Her ardent passion brings a much needed smile to Hans' own maddened features.
"Yes. But this Ball has been obviously tailored to further your experience with new suitors in my absence in the interim, min kæreste. All of whom, sources tell me, your father has personally invited, so I have my doubts as to the King's warm welcome of my presence here tonight." The Danish Prince purses his lips and sets his jaw at the un-chivalrous doublecross of King and naval Admiral he so respected.
"There have also been arguments that my superior officer may not look kindly on his Vise Admiral's impulsive departure from duty in the China seas for these past fifty days of travel between India and Norway. Nor would this concerned father welcome my unwanted appearance which may well jeopardize our ongoing betrothal's agreement. It may well be better if I never reveal myself and instead dutifully return to my commission at sea." Unnerved by all of these unpleasant contingencies, Hans pauses in his concise and lengthy testimony to outwardly shiver.
It had nothing to do with the Ice Queen's frosty temperature drop behind the dark curtain the couple were intimately sharing caresses and longing kisses within, but more his own apprehension.
"And then there is the not so unlikely option of the reality you may indeed be persuaded that one of these fine, well bred and spotless, chosen gentlemen is undeniably a more unsullied and suitable royal consort match to deserve a pristine and pure Queen such as you. So as you can see, logic indicates for me to immediately return to the Nidaros as swiftly as possible to resume my shipboard duties and salvage some semblance of worthiness to vie for your hand." With diverted eyes in the dimmed lighting, Prince Hans had the lingering uncertain compulsion to recall his past record of deceit and ill will against Elsa's kingdom. All that came flooding back, along with that gnawing in the back of his mind since early childhood that he was only an unworthy thirteenth in-line boy and could never aspire to more.
SLAP!
In the covered columns' shadows, Elsa had been patiently listening to her lover's long-winded explanation, until the last sentences were uttered and she felt her own compulsion to deliver his high bone cheek a punishing cool purple fingered slap.
"…Ehh…? Elsa…? What did I say?" The shocked, handsome Prince goes all red in the face to have been so abruptly halted in his lofty words when he was doing his best to be composed and diplomatic rather than affecting emotion.
"You. Are. The. Most. 'Suitable.' Match. For. Me, as you so callously put it, Prince Hans Westergaard. How dare you question my love and devotion to you!I amyour utmost 'duty.' And it's my birthday, so you have to make me happy!" Shaking the squeezed Sir Jorgen Bjorgen in Hans' masked face angrily, a pouty petulant Elsa's chilly temper flashes hot at her fiancé for making this long-awaited reunion so unsatisfactory. The cool, collected Queen starts to emotionally quiver as she states her discontent with Hans' choice of words the young woman believed they had already long overcome.
On the verge of disappointed angry tears, Elsa does not wait for Ferdinand Egalitè's all clear warning signal as she storms out from the dark corner curtains, shaken inside with emotion.
"Wait! Min skat (my darling)!" Hans violently whispers in troubled surprise when Elsa suddenly flees the curtained area, but he is halted from chasing her by an astonishingly sturdy arm barring the curtain closed. He looks up to see one dour looking, peremptory manservant wearing the red robe outfit of a pre-Columbian Incan Emperor of the 15th century at his mistress Princess' behest beside him.
"Let her cool off, Handsome man. The King is watching and your doppelgangers are on the move to give you some breathing room. So just relaxar (Loosen up.). By the by, I am Valentina Montanez Tores. Oh! I'm not supposed to reveal my name yet, am I? Oh, well, it'll be our little intimate secret, eh? Hehehe." Having her own flirtatious share of the cat and mouse with her own hard-to-get Prince, officious Brazilian Princess Valentina of Paraiso flutters by in her butterfly winged Fairy Queen's garb to place a shushing finger on Hans' about-to-contest mouth.
Peering out to the ballroom to see the King indeed drawing closer, Hans had no choice but to comply with the dark-skinned Brazilian woman and her guard, lest cause a scene.
Oh, Hans, I'm sorry! Come back to me! With furrowed brows, Elsa hugs her arms around her torso as she looks back, only to find her dashing Prince had dashed away again. The Ice Queen was feeling as though she was missing a part of herself in wasting these precious moments togther again. The 5th Element wills her ice not to manifest itself through her stormy, turbulent emotions. A sorrowful yet wistful look crosses her features as she could almost still feel his strong, secure arms around her.
All she wanted was that euphoric feeling of being in his arms back again with no cloud of doubt hanging over their heads…
King Agnarr had been watching from a distance, growing increasingly curious of the identity of the last man he had seen Elsa favoring tonight – that Black Knight Prince who again, had an undeniably familiar air about him…
"Ah, there you are! Sir, I was… wondering if you have seen my… Oh, excuse me, my good man. Nevermind my previous question, I believe I spot her." But that's when the Ice King senses suddenly his distressed daughter's demeanor of a frosty cold reentry onto the court ballroom floor.
There was a big question mark on Agnarr's face as, in his rash blindness, the 10th century costumed King practically crashes into that selfsame Black Prince Knight from where he was on the other side of the room near the refreshment table.
But this Black Knight, who, against the anxious Papa's first impression, was not as tall, or distinguished a figure shakes his head and puts up his dismissive hands. And once more he had dark brown hair rather than the shade of red that the visually impaired father believed he glimpsed earlier.
This silent knight, well attuned to dance though more than he was just inelegant minutes ago, was then soon accosted by a flutter of filmy greens, opalescent golds and shimmering wings of a fabled Fairy Queen.
I suppose with the right partner anything's possible…Isn't that what this whole mess I've brought upon myself is all about?
"Pardon me, Your Majesty, I do not intend to sound snappish, but I have been waiting most patiently. Was I not invited to attend ball with the intention to celebrate with Queen Elsa? Does she not wish to favor my kingdom of Monaco as a vital trading partner? I am beginning to think that she has disdain for my company." Prince Charles Honorè breaks the Masquerade's unspoken rule as he approaches the King. The snubbed Royal prince felt justified as per his royal title status to officially lodge his complaint with the King who had sent him assurances via reliable noble channels that his daughter was interested in selecting a royal match.
"Ah! There she is! I will demand my dance with Queen Elsa now immediately, before that armored lout steals her away again." Charles felt he had not been given proper audience yet with the Queen when he requested patiently and was promised by the dance card her sister Anna begrudgingly arranged.
Before Agnarr could utter a word or ask Charles Honorè if he recognized the knight in question as being of Danish lineage, the Prince of Monoco had stalked his long black shadow across the ballroom.
"Queen Elsa, I will be blunt to save us both time and face. I fear you have been avoiding me all night. This does not bode well for our two countries' relations. Or do you counter that I am being too sensitive?" In an attempt to sound wheedling without flinching his challenging smile, Prince Charles had no compunction to call out the lone young woman he was approaching as he takes the opportunity to place an ungloved hand on Elsa's nippy forearm.
"You do not want to dance with me right now." Comes the displeased Ice Queen's chilly, seething ice vapor reply. Her blue eyes behind the mask glowing frigid white in cold anger at the easy target of this most unpleasantly demanding suitor Prince.
"Ehem! If I may speak to you, Sir?" His failing eyesight at last allowing him to catch up, a coughing pointedly King Agnarr had followed the tall Prince's desirous gaze and skulking trail to intrude upon where a wintry-exuding Elsa had retreated to vent her frustrations and re-ice the punch at the other stationary refreshment table.
Like a young giselle, the birthday girl flitters away from this uncharasmatic man.
The King of Arendelle did not wish to risk diplomatic relations with a vital trading partner in the Monacan Prince who had personally come to Agnarr with the complaint that he had been overstepped and treated poorly thus far.
But that did not mean Elsa's father would descend to the idea of such a pushy, ambitious, conceited young man she paid absolutely no interest in, with pursuing a courtship with his beloved delicate child, either.
Sainted 'King Olaf' places his own icy, cold grip on 'Judge Frollo's' arm, halting the dark man from hot pursuit of the vulnerable young Queen needing some time to herself for some emotional reason the King did not quite understand.
"Please allow me to assure you, Prince Charles, that Queen Elsa holds your nation in high regard, as do I. My daughter is simply taking a small break after no doubt being overwhelmed by the magnificence of this entire event – including this vast amount of unknown guests - we have surprised her with tonight. So, please, may I specially request of you, in your honorable munificence, to allow Elsa to forfeit your dance card claims – along with all others she did not herself assign. I ask this in good faith and friendship, so we, as grown men, do not monopolize the carefree night for our Queen of this fairytale Masquerade Ball." Elsa's father explains in a manner sympathetic to his elder child and cool apathy to the pursed-lip younger man he removes his frosty hand from flash-freezing.
"I apologize for any false impression in my invitation, Sir. I am ashamed to admit that, as a concerned parent, I had misjudged my mature daughter's constant inclination. What I am entreating you to do now is give my birthday girl a little space to choose for herself whom she has the privileged whim to spend the rest of her party with. We will have ample time to discuss business and trade agreements in the upcoming days of your visit, good sir." King Agnarr raises his frosty eyebrow as he unequivocally signals for this pushy, indignant nobleman - wearing the ominous black judge robe that Charles Honorè thought gave him some impressive authority - to cease stalking his daughter around.
"Hmm. Perhaps we will continue our trade talks in the morning before I depart, Your Majesty." Not accustomed to being treated as dismally as he was at this gathering, now threatened by this inconsistent Norwegian monarch, the snobbish Monocan Prince stutters a small concession under the Ice King's piercing glare. Haughty Prince Charles Honore, before walking away, gives an audible sigh. Then he dramatically rips in two and hands his dance card over to Agnarr in a gesture that told the King, though he was not at all pleased, the Monacan would not try to force his way into Queen Elsa's affections again this party night.
"Have I - a man of great stature and station – just been so capriciously and publicly rejected by both father and daughter in such an ignominious humiliation?" The indignantly half Français/ half Italia accented, feeling highly insulted Prince of Monaco was quietly seething his complaints beneath his breath, his affronted mind about to think what repercussions his nation could inflict upon this one.
Despite showing the King his best refined face, an utterly exasperated Prince Charles Honore's angry veins in his neck were close to imploding at being so facetiously dismissed in public by this haughty young Queen of this inconsequential, secluded kingdom in the North. And her rude father, too, after Charles had deemed to come all this way in that awful blizzard from his far warmer and more scenic . The silently stewing dark Il Dottore turns when someone taps his red and violet sleeve to dance from behind.
Just then, that flitting about female with a fine, petite figure distinguished in her jeweled duchess mask beneath her maid's cap and apron, flaunts her frilled skirt and low necked blouse wares before him. Columbine, the enchantress of the Comedia dell'arte, bows politely before the disgruntled Judge Frollo wearing Prince to entreaty his attention.
"Do not be silly, sir. The Norwegian Queen is merely playing a role with you at this highly entertaining Masquerade, as the high strung antics her birthday celebration surely allows. It is nothing personal. Surely, you said it yourself that you are being far too sensitive, as you always have been, Charles. And is it not an important part of the Masquerade the excitement and mystery's thrill of the hunt you always claimed to so adore…Il Dottore?" The winningly smiling Columbine partially lifts her mask and veil obscuring her face to address the irate man in the fitting plague mask and dark judge suit. And though the deutsch-spoken woman was adorned in a frilly, frivolous and flighty feminine gown of a 16th century maidservant, this lady came armed with utmost diplomacy as he realizes now who she was.
"Well, yes…Columbina. I realize this is a festivity full of inscrutability and high spirits." The conceited, yet shamed Prince condescends to be forgiving for the sake of this enigmatic female he obviously knew and knew quite well, as both call one another by their masquerade character's name, as per custom at such a party. With one look, this had persuaded him to not take offense from the young ruler of Arendelle.
The not too much older, costumed woman shrugs with a look on her face that said 'Kids these days', and dazzles him with a smile that conferred maturity with the indignant Monacan Prince.
The dark-robed man at least momentarily forgets his earlier hellfire anger in the wiles of this disarming mystery woman who pets both his cheek and his wounded ego with her flowing movement to draw the western European Crown Prince away with her and passed the refreshement table where Elsa was swaying to and fro.
As for Elsa, glad her Papa and that mysterious woman had intervened with that person, she had moved around the refreshment table area to steady herself in the absorbing music. She had been watching carefully for her Danish fiance's comeback, while the other couples were on the dance floor enjoying a side-by-side Swedish Polska, including that domineering Prince of Monoco whom she had narrowly avoided.
"Pardon me, Ma'moiselle. Is it not permissible, even at the hallowed affair of a Masquerade, to speak openly at a safe zone corner of the ballroom, appropriately described as the 'refreshment table'? After all, if one has an allergic aversion to, say, berries, should a gentleman not speak to inquire if the punch he will be offering the lady to imbibe is not replete with the sweet red berry? Many poor souls suffer such an unfortunate malady." Wearing the striking and stylish white turban Prince Ali Ababwa garb, tall Prince Khalid of Khaldune, after witnessing his chief rival Charles Honore so decidedly rejected, silently strides his long legged body to stand directly behind Elsa.
At close quarters, the Arabian Prince addresses the Queen of Norway who had been taking a break by the punch bowl, quietly humming with the tune 'to get in touch with her inner harmony' as Anna often prescribed music could do.
"Oh! You startled me! Why… Yes. That would be the most wise." With a demure smile that knew when she was being put on, Elsa concedes to the smooth-talking, extremely engaging in conversation man masquerading as the Arabian King of thieves.
"Surely you are not adverse to such luscious fruit, Queen Elsa?" The flirtatious Middle Eastern man stretches his long lean form across the refreshment table. He plucks a few of the deep red berries from the decorative powdered sugar 'snow' coated tree made of varied fruits and cookies Gerda had designed for the table centerpiece.
Prince Khalid then places one of the plump, pitted red cherries preserved in brandy on his tongue and luxuriantly chews the succulent fruit, making pleasured faces and accompanying throaty noises close to Elsa's ear as he offers one to her.
"No, thank you. I… I don't like cherries." Elsa makes the shy excuse, trying to back away from this masked 'diamond in the rough' thief's pervasive attentions at the refreshment table where she was starting to feel cornered.
Calm yourself, Elsa…I'm the 5th Spirit of Harmony…Sunshine…flowers…hummingbirds…peaceful thoughts…
"Then, in trade, I will show you something you will certainly like." He devours the offered dark red fruit, licking his fingers of the remaining traces of brandy squeezed from them with a careless smile.
"Don't you dare close your eyes." Spoken in a husky whisper, effusive Prince Ali/Khalid boldly takes Elsa's arm and quickly leads the astonished Sleeping Beauty to the dance floor as Liszt's 'Hungarian Rhapsody' begins to play.
"I must say I excel at the Czardas. It is my favorite dance for its compelling friss fast rhythm followed by its lassu slow section. You must dance it with me, Queen Elsa. You must.." Confident in himself and his abilities, the loquacious Khaldunian gave Elsa no choice in the matter. The remarkably tall and self-assured young man was obviously enjoying himself now – with more than a few glasses of punch and brandy laced cherries on top of it – as they flow into the dynamic Czardas. Even behind his three-quarter facemask, it was clear to see that it gave the flamboyant Prince pleasure, among other desires, to drag the hesitant Arendelle Queen onto the dance floor.
"It is far too warm in here during a czardas for those thick long gloves, your Majesty." A loosened up Prince Khalid employs the rapid beats of music to his long legged advantage as he quickstep comports the dizzied, growingly troubled pale lady around the ballroom as if she were just another of his harem.
Taking a sip of his gin-added punch that Kai had discreetly supplied earlier, King Agnarr glances up from where he had been trying to discern where that Black Knight had disappeared to. His attention blurred, the King just catches a fuzzy glimpse of the impressive Arab Prince attempting to persuasively romance his daughter on the dance floor.
The anxious father, though short of vision, still saw his child's silent distress to be so aggressively pulled and prodded and flung about as the quiet introspective girl never experienced before.
Another one of my messes, Iduna…Agnarr was just about put down his glass and move to intercede with this over-ambitious royal rapscallion.
But he didn't have to, because someone else beat him to it, as King Agnarr's cloudy vision thought he viewed another man step onto the arena of this dance floor in his stead.
TAP. TAP.
The show-stopping, syncopated music of the magvar kor folk dance was just ending its fast-paced intro to change into the slower, more romantic section of the czardas for courting couples. That's when a hand from behind suddenly halts the dark skinned Prince from taking further unwanted liberties with the upset birthday queen.
That much sought out Black Knight, after disappearing and reappearing in multiple spots in the room that left a baffled King Agnarr rather dizzy from trying to keep up with the tall, shadowy, mysterious figure, somehow reappeared on the dance floor. He was looking quite determined and fresh for the fight, his hair having that reddish tint about it again.
But when the Arabian Prince donning his thieving ancestor's garb refuses to give up his station of leading the Queen in this expressive dance, the upstart Black Knight challenger breaks his silence and pipes up in hot pursuit.
"This gentle lady does not enjoy your fierce attentions, sir. You are finished here, because the next waltz has been promised to me." Said in a calm even manner that belied the raw jealous emotion of what he really wanted to say, Prince Hans was doing his best to hold back that red hot temper he seemed now to constantly be keeping in check.
The Dane would have himself preferred to challenge his rival to step outside for a duel by sword or revolver – knowing whichever the Khaldune Prince chose, proficient Hans had no doubt of being victor.
But since this was a celebration, in front of everyone, the red satin caped, silver armored, svelte young Prince lays claim to a nervously impressed Elsa. He simultaneously and forcefully expels the flirtatious Prince of Khaldune's pretentious hands from their clasp embraced around her small waist and bare shoulder.
"And who, sir, are you to push around and order a preeminent Prince such as I so flagrantly?" Indeed having one too many drinks to give in to a stranger on a royal dance floor, the elevated height, attractive Arabian would not to be so easily dissuaded. Not after patiently waiting and biding his time for over two hours for his turn to woo the highly desirable Queen of Arendelle.
"The man who is engaged to marry this fair Princess." The Black Knight succinctly states, a smirk behind his gleaming black ebony mask threatening to physically remove the charming Khalid from finishing the dynamic Czardas with the staggered Queen.
"Please forgive me for not meeting you in the open earlier as you wished, min hvvidue. I honestly could have spared you all this if I had just been a man and come forward — consequences be damned! But…I'm here, to be your knight now and evermore, Elsa. If you'll still have me…?" Hans whispers, humbly begging her forgiveness as he holds up Elsa's no longer nervous hands in his hopeful ones. His viridescent eyes shine at her from behind his black Venetian mask to the lovely, relieved gleaming orbs behind her matching pearlescent white one, as Queen Elsa throws herself into Prince Hans' arms.
Removing one of his armored glove gauntlets, the Dane takes off the platinum snowflake ring that Elsa had infused with cryo-power so her hero could face the Djvælen below in the pits of hell to protect her country.
As they two dance to the close of the romantic czardas, Hans evocatively strips his Queen of the long purple glove covering her left appendage that he had replaced earlier and bites its limp fabric fingers between his lips.
Never avoiding the cold chill of her fingertips - rather basking in it - Prince Hans rather possessively and definitely places that precious snowflake ring back in its rightful place upon his fiancée's ungloved left hand finger, filled with emotion as he does.
"Dance with me, my handsome Prince." A tearfully relieved to have the refuge of his promise ring back on her finger where it belonged, Elsa beautifully smiles from ear to ear beneath her matching white mask. "And bring back a love song to me…"
Their pledge to one another renewed, secure in her love, Prince Hans accedes to Elsa's wish. He tastefully takes the dashing lead position as her consummate dance partner to elegantly sweep Elsa across the floor in the slower paced, more intimate " Das Leben ein Tanz' (Life is a Dance) of waltz king Johann Strauss set to the ¾ meter Ländler folk dance form.
As the perfectly suited pair dance, Sleeping Beauty's gown unconsciously begins to glow and gleam in gradient shades of purples, pinks and blues, sparkling with the imbued majesty of the Northern Lights garnered from the 5th Spirit's feelings of perfect love for her chosen mate…
"Show Yourself!" – written by Kristen Andrson Lopez & Robert Lopez for Frozen 2
"Ja, må hon leva!" (Yes, may she live!) - Swedish birthday song set to the 18th century composer Hayden's "Opus 76 Sunrise".
min ædle -my precious in Danish
Mon ami –my friend in French
Frère – brother in French
Min skat - my darling in Danish
Min hvvidue – My dove in Danish
Autumn greetings, dear Frozen Again friends!
Hello! I hope you enjoyed this 4th of this now 5-parter Masquerade episode! (Setsuna said it went way too long, even for a season-ender, so I yet again shaved the chapter in half. Sorry to keep it stringing you along, but so many juicy characters and unexpected events keep popping up on this busy, chaotic dueling suitor dance floor! :0) Even the King felt the need to intervene with one of the more forceful suitors, all trying to dominate Elsa's dance card!
Poor Elsa! What a ride in that crowded dance floor for the birthday gal! She and Hans met up at last and SLAP! I didn't see that coming either! Woww, Hans! Your lady's got some get-up and go in her!
Papa has been getting the run around from Egalite and Alonso and Varian masquerading as the Black Knight doppelgangers to cover Knight Hans' tight butt! Even some of the ladies are coming to their new friend Elsa's aid to intercept those persistent suitors, for the cause of giving her the happiest birthday! We'll see how long the gang can keep it up!
Yeah! By the end of this wild romp around the ballroom, Helsa's waltzing together again with that special engagement ring back where it belongs! I promise, the next episode is absolutely, definitely the thrilling conclusion of this exciting Masquerade birthday party for our Ice Queen and her Red hot Prince!
God bless you and thank you all for your kind reviews for your humble authoress to soak up!
Love, HarukaKou
"'Ja, må hon leva, Ja visst ska hon leva uti hundrade år! Hurra, hurra, hurra, hurra!'"
(Yes, may she live! Of course, she will live for a hundred years! Hooray, hooray, hooray, hooray!)
